


venerae capulus somnium

by leifstroganoff



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Pining, Sex Dreams, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leifstroganoff/pseuds/leifstroganoff
Summary: Leif is a very dignified man. Or, at least, hethinkshe’s a very dignified man, the actual truth of that matter is up for much debate. His morning routine never changes. He gets up, he goes for a jog, he stops at the park to admire nature for anywhere from five to ten minutes (variety is the spice of life, huh?), he gets a cup of coffee fromThe Golden Gate Grind, he tries very hard not to trip over his words in front of the cute, blonde barista that listens when he tells her about the cool bird he saw that morning, he fails miserably, he goes home, he gets dressed, he goes to work. Rinse, repeat, live another day.
Relationships: Leif Donnelly/Autumn (Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	venerae capulus somnium

**Author's Note:**

> this is another one from the trope crossover [request meme](https://leifdonnellies.tumblr.com/post/625534637444399104/fanfiction-trope-mash-up) (i'm still taking requests! just slowly making my way through them, but if you send one, i'll definitely get to it!) and this one was "autumn/leif, coffee shop au, sex dreams" so lo and behold... that's exactly what this is lmao (alternative title: even leif's subconcious cockblocks him)

Leif is a very dignified man. Or, at least, he _thinks_ he’s a very dignified man, the actual truth of that matter is up for much debate.

He also thinks he’s a very simple man; though, that is also up for much debate. He works at SPRQpoint, he likes to birdwatch, he likes to jog, he ignores every deep, dark existential fear that lies on his chest like an anvil before a swordsmith, he likes his coffee with way too much sugar, and he’s absolutely, exceedingly, pathetically desperate for love. Or for connection. Or for, really, _any_ positive attention, he thinks he could make do with somebody telling him he’s ‘doing alright’, if he’s being honest.

His morning routine never changes. He gets up, he goes for a jog, he stops at the park to admire nature for anywhere from five to ten minutes (variety is the spice of life, huh?), he gets a cup of coffee from _The Golden Gate Grind_ , he tries very hard not to trip over his words in front of the cute, blonde barista that listens when he tells her about the cool bird he saw that morning, he fails miserably, he goes home, he gets dressed, he goes to work. Rinse, repeat, live another day.

The conversation can be different, but the basic facts of the day stay the same. It’s a comfort to him, going through the motions, no matter how tired it may seem.

It doesn’t help that the aforementioned blonde barista is _really freaking cute_ and jokes with him while she makes his order and recommends parks to form his jogging route around because the view is _just gorgeous_ and talks about how ‘the way the trees frame this trail really make you feel like you’re _alive_ ’. He doesn’t even process that he’s developed a crush until it’s much too late.

* * *

Her lips are on his neck before he has time to process it and he’s not really sure what to do. Objectively, he knows several things he _should_ be doing, but when her lips are sucking on his neck like that, absolutely any brain function he might’ve been able to muster up stops working.

When her hands move to tug his button-up from where it’s tucked into his pants, he comes back to himself, hands moving to rest on her hips and push towards the bed behind them. Her knees hit the bed and she falls backwards, him landing on top of her, taking the chance to connect their lips again as she moves her leg up between his legs, eliciting a throaty moan from the pressure where he’s already getting a hard-on.

The kisses are soft but sloppy and he finds a weird fluttering in his chest as her hands make quick work to unbutton his shirt. It’s absolutely not _fondness,_ he’s sure. Why would he be fond? He barely knows her. His shirt is off and she’s shimmying off her sweater before he’s had time to consider it and then their lips are pressed together again.

And alright, maybe it’s fondness.

His hands move down to rest on her thigh, rubbing small circles at the hemline of her dress as she lets out a moan that’s swallowed into his mouth, lost to the kisses they’re sharing.

Before he knows it, his pants are off, too and he’s sucking dark spots onto her neck as he enters her, a strangled moan falling next to his ear as he sets a pace and her hands tangle in his hair and one scratches across his back, desperate for something to hold onto as his thrusts draw small sounds from the back of her throat.

It doesn’t take long to draw her over the edge with his singular focus on her, his thumb brushing circles over her clit as she moans his name, his lips falling everywhere he can reach on her body. He can feel his own orgasm start to come over him when the most annoying alarm sound in the world starts to blare through the room and then she’s gone and he rolls over in his own bed, awake and alone and _fuck, dude._

He couldn’t feel more like a sleazebag if he tried. He’s no stranger to wet dreams, but he’s not a teenager anymore and he’s certainly not had one about anyone he _knows_ since he was one. He absentmindedly shuts his alarm off and resigns himself to feeling gross for a bit and rubbing one out before he hops in the shower. This is something he’s sure he’s gonna push to the back of his mind until he literally can’t anymore.

So, he does.

* * *

His days continue on the same. Morning jog, morning coffee, morning embarrassing himself in front of Autumn, head off to work. Except now he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss her when she smiles at him and he desperately wants her to touch him in more than a brush of the hands as she hands him his over-sugared coffee. _It’s fine._ That’s what he tells himself, anyways, as he’s snapped out of his own thoughts by the person in front of him paying and stepping away, leaving him with the perfect view of Autumn as he steps forward to stumble over his coffee order.

“Uh, large caramel macchiato, extra caramel, extra espresso, and a blueberry muffin, please.”

He really wishes he couldn’t feel the blush in his cheeks right now, because he has absolutely no right to be blushing. There’s no way for _her_ to know what’s been going on in his head, it’s not like she can read his mind.

“Bad day?” _Or maybe she can_. Because, _yeah,_ it’s already been a pretty bad day and it’s only eight thirty in the morning. First, he’d woken up late and realized he wouldn’t have time for a jog. Then, he’d run out of hot water in the shower. _Then,_ he’d gone to get his yogurt from the fridge for breakfast only to realize it was no longer there and was, he could only assume, in Tobin’s stomach. He’d decided pretty quickly that he needed a large ass cup of coffee to get through the day.

“I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

“Read me on my drink order.”

He doesn’t actually hate it, at all, despite the face he makes when he says it. It makes him feel _seen_ and like he isn’t just a customer, even though he knows the opposite is true. He’s even heard Autumn talk about how she _does_ know all of her regulars that well. He’s not special just because she can tell he’s had a shitty day.

“Well, if it helps... it’s hard to read you.” Her smile is sympathetic and soft and it makes his heart feel like someone’s twisting it.

“What does _that_ mean?” He asks, with a laugh as he hands her a twenty to pay for his drink and muffin.

“Well, with most people it’s easy, but you’ve got an average order, a family stress order, an exhaustion order, a comfort order, and a celebratory order.” She replies, counting out his change as she speaks. “It’s taken me a long time to categorize them. I’m sure I’ve missed a few, too.”

Leif doesn’t really know how to respond to that, electricity flying through his fingers when hers brush against them while handing him the change. Had she been paying that close of attention to him?

“Uh… thanks?” He knows he probably looks as dumbfounded as he feels right now, a wary smile on his face as he steps to the side and puts his change away, grateful that there’s nobody behind him in line, so she can keep talking to him. “I didn’t realize, um… that you paid that much attention.”

He barely catches the blush on her cheeks as she turns away from him to grab his drink from the other barista and he’s honestly not sure he _did_ see it.

“You’re…” She turns back around with the drink and muffin and a beaming smile and _yeah,_ a perfect rose color framing her cheeks. “Nice to pay attention to. Here’s your order.”

He starts to open his mouth, but very quickly finds he’s very unsure of what he even wants to say. _What **can** he say?_

“Um, thanks.”

He hopes the warm smile he gives her before hightailing it out of there makes it seem less like he’s running away.

* * *

His head is between her thighs and he is _relishing_ in the noises that he’s drawing out of her as his tongue swipes at her pussy, warm breath spilling out with each adjustment he makes, her hand tangled in the back of his hair as he _gives, gives, gives,_ still aching to give more, even as she gasps and groans with the movement of his tongue, her back arching away from the bed.

He moves up to close his mouth around her clit, sucking on it before pulling away and sliding his tongue over it, slow and teasing and she gasps, her grip on his hair tightening enough to hurt and it pulls a moan out of his throat, the vibrations moving through to her clit and drawing a pleading moan out of her in response.

She repositions her hand so it’s gripping his hair where it’s long enough to pull on it and he looks up at her through lidded eyes, pulling away long enough for a smirk to form on his lips. They only look at each other for a moment, but it feels like an eternity before he dives back in, drawing her over the edge and using his tongue to work her through until she lays her head back on the bed, her breaths shallow and quick, blissed out and thoughtless as he moves up to kiss her on the lips, sure that she can taste herself on his own lips.

She moves casually to push him onto his back, her own hand reaching to stroke his cock when he’s jolted awake by a knock on his door and Tobin’s muffled voice from the other side asking, “dude, are you up?”

Well, he is _now. In more ways than one._ He’s gonna go insane if he doesn’t figure this out soon.

* * *

This is probably the latest he’s ever been at _The Golden Gate Grind_ , save for late night coffee runs from work. It’s _not_ because he’s avoiding Autumn. He has no reason to be avoiding Autumn other than his own shitty psyche, so he’s absolutely not avoiding Autumn and you can’t convince him otherwise. Except for the fact that it doesn’t even _work._

When he walks into the grind at nine thirty instead of his usual seven, Autumn is working behind the counter making the drinks while her friend Alice (who Leif has also gotten to know over his years of coming to the same shop at the same time) is at the register. He can’t help but actually be a little disappointed that he won’t be interacting with Autumn, even though _not_ having to talk to her is literally the reason he delayed his morning, despite the fact that she still waves and smiles at him.

He orders and waits and only trips up a little when Autumn hands him his coffee with a bright smile and a teasing _“I thought you’d abandoned me”._ He doesn’t notice until he’s walking out of the door that there’s a pretty large message in sharpie on the side of the cup. He has to stop by the window to read it.

_I thought you weren’t coming in today and realized how disappointed I was… then I realized I was giving you a bunch of dumb hints that I liked you and there’s no way to know if you were picking up on it, so here’s one big honking one that you can’t ignore. 628-555-5555._

He looks up from the block of text and meets Autumn’s eyes where she’s not very subtly watching him through the window and he knows he looks as surprised as he feels, he just hopes that the dumb smile on his face is enough to say that it is _not_ a bad surprise. He gives her a thumbs up with the smile through the window and his smile grows when that makes her giggle and earns her a knowing look from her coworker.

He steps away with that, doing a lazy two finger salute as he saunters in SPRQpoint’s direction, a lazy, happy confidence exuding off of him as he pulls his phone out and opens a new text message.

**Author's Note:**

> ty as always for reading and as always i absolutely adore comments and feedback <3


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